The Minutes After
by effulgentcolors
Summary: Based on this tumblr prompt: The moments immediately after their first time, what each of them are thinking.


Her breathing is labored and there are little black spots before her eyes. And this, _this_ is by far the best sex she has ever had. Maybe not technique-wise (they had been too worked up for that), maybe not duration-wise (had waited for it too damn long, dreamed about it too often) but somehow (two words float around the dots, twisting and turning and tempting her to reach out and grab them) she has never felt anything like this, anything better than this, ever before.

/

His skin is covered in sweat and his whole body is flushed. And this,_ this_ is sure as hell the most glorious coupling he has ever taken part in. Maybe not his most impressive performance (they had been too desperate), maybe not his most elegant one (had been too damn wanton, lost in each other) yet for some reason (two words he can feel burning beneath his skin, itching and taunting, daring him to let his hand wonder and seize them) he has never felt anything like this, anything better than this, ever before.

/

Emma feels herself slowly sink back into her body and steals a glance at Killian. His head is tilted backwards and his brows are slightly furrowed. She instinctively glances down (even though she had felt him pulsing inside of her not five minutes ago) to reassure herself that she wans't _that _selfish. Because she was selfish alright. Wasn't able to help herself once he settled between her tights, warm hand resting on her lower abdomen and keeping her pressed into the mattress. It only got worse (_better_, God, so much better) once he slid inside her and she forgot everything else, everything but the feel of his body against hers, of his skin beneath her nails, his teeth and lips against her breasts, his cock slamming inside of her and making her feel so full, so complete. Did he feel the same? Was she responsive enough? She can't even remember. Emma gulps, finally beginning to wonder, if this was as earth-shattering for him as it was for her.

/

Killian feels his muscles finally relax and sink even deeper into the soft mattress. He hears Emma's little moan and his brows scrunch up, trying to determine if it is a good sort of moan. His hand twitches at his side with the need to reach out for her (it's a reflex by now, no matter where they are, no matter what they are doing). His thoughts drift back and he remembers holding her to him, nibbling at her inner tight, sucking, leaving a mark. He can't help asking himself, if she would like that – being marked as his. He remembers sliding into her all at once, biting at her breast (did he leave marks there as well?), he gave her all he is. Was it too much? Did he go too fast? It felt so right at the time. Killian sighs, finally beginning to wonder, if this was as bloody amazing for her as it was for him.

/

She wants to snuggle into his side but he hasn't reached out for her. He hasn't done much of anything since he took his weight off her a few minutes ago. She already misses that, misses him, pressed to her from head to toe, his warmth seeping into her. She doesn't know if she should leave. She _is_ in his room. And hers is just down the hall so she doesn't have much of an excuse to stay. Except that she wants to. Really, really wants to. And that's a first as well. She has never in her life felt like staying after sex, after she had been thoroughly or partially satisfied, not even with Neal. She had, of course, stayed back then but it wasn't so much out of need or want as it was just because she thought that was how things were supposed to be. And _now_. Now she craves him, she wants to feel him against her again, wants to fall asleep in his arms; now, tomorrow, next week, next month… forever.

/

He wants to draw her to him but she hasn't scooted closer. Hasn't really moved at all and he feels like she is on the verge of taking flight and he doesn't bloody know what to do. He wonders if he should ask her to stay, if he should tell her that he wants her to but that she can go, if that's what she need. And he thinks maybe he should initiate another round of lovemaking but is even more clueless about how that would be received. He hasn't shared a bed with someone in 300 years and even before that he had only experienced that sort of intimacy with Milah. And Milah had liked her freedom, liked to be able to move, steal the blankets and roll around. Now he wants to discover _Emma_, wants to wake up next to her; tomorrow and the day after that, and the day after that… forever.

/

She sighs and finally turns on her side, eyes trying to capture his and somehow ask for direction because he has always followed her lead and now she needs_ him_ to lead, to take her and keep her and never let her go.

/

He inhales sharply when she shift next to him, muscles tensing at the image of her slipping away, but then he feels her eyes on him and when he looks back at her she is right there, waiting, patient and open, and asking him not to break her.

/

She feels his arms find their way around her waist and his leg nestles itself between her own and he is warm when she buries her nose in his neck and smells like the sea and that cologne David got him for his birthday and _god, she loves him_.

/

He feels her melt into him, her hands coming to rest on his chest, her cold feet brushing against his calf and her skin is soft when he kisses her forehead and tastes like coconut and _them_ and _heavens above, he loves her_.

/

They wake up even more tangled up than they fell asleep and from that morning (early afternoon really) onward they can never quite discern the smell and taste of each other, they are all meshed up together.


End file.
